


osamu the house-husband

by appleofmysirius



Series: osamu & atsumu [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/M, Reader-Insert, just all around domesticity and fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:34:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 3,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26542237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/appleofmysirius/pseuds/appleofmysirius
Summary: a series of unrelated drabbles taking place in the universe where osamu is a house-husband to you, his working wife.
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Reader
Series: osamu & atsumu [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2139087
Comments: 6
Kudos: 127





	1. Chapter 1

The blaring of his alarm jolts Osamu awake. Rubbing his bleary eyes, he notices you snoozing beside him, completely unbothered. A soft smile on his face at your adorable state, Osamu rises out of bed and slips his bedroom slippers on. 

His feet patter around your bedroom as he opens the curtains marginally so that he doesn’t wake you and make you lose that last precious five minutes of sleep. 

After washing up, Osamu heads straight into his sanctuary. The kitchen. 

He begins his day by feeding your baby- Riceball, your fluffy white cat. For good measure, Riceball gets a scritch behind the ear before he tucks into his breakfast. 

Then, he brews coffee for the both of you. Osamu takes his coffee seriously, so he whips out his drip coffee set up, measures out his beans and grinds them. Once his coffee is ground and dripping away into your mugs, Osamu heads back into the bedroom to wake you. 

He shakes your shoulder rather roughly, you’re instantly awake. You blink up at Osamu’s handsome face, as he literally pulls you out of bed so you can’t go back to sleep. 

“Into the shower you go,” Osamu pats your butt as you walk past him to the bathroom. 

Osamu returns to the kitchen, toasting up two slices of bread for you. He spreads a little of his homemade jam, setting it down on the table next to your coffee mug, prepared how you like it. 

Turning his attention to the stove, Osamu begins frying up an egg roll omelette for your lunch. He’s also got the rice cooker going and rummaging through some leftovers to arrange a bento for you. Once everything is prepared, Osamu packs it into your lunch bag, along with a thermal flask of roasted tea. 

You yawn as you enter the kitchen, dressed in your work clothes. Mumbling a thank you to him, you sit at the table and have your breakfast. Osamu joins you, buttering his toast and slathering on a much thicker layer of jam. 

When you finish, you grab your handbag, lunch bag and coat, slipping on your shoes at the door. Osamu is there to see you out, a hand on the small of your back as you stick your feet into your work shoes. 

Before you leave, you tilt your head up, kissing him on the lips. Osamu cups your cheek, tucking some hair behind your ear. You bid each other goodbye, and Osamu watches you trounce out of the door. 

Now, he had two hours and thirty minutes to before the supermarket began the sale on his favourite mushrooms.


	2. Chapter 2

You have been feeling poorly the past few weeks- a couple of big presentations, the weather had been wreaking havoc on your hair and skin. And worst of all, you couldn’t stomach anything. Be it your husband’s cooking, or store-bought food. You initially chalked it up to stress, but when you realise you’ve missed your period, you decide it’s time to head to the clinic. 

And so here you are, finally at home after stopping by the clinic after work. Osamu knew you were stopping at the doctor’s- he was naturally very concerned. After all, what wife couldn’t stomach a single thing her husband cooked? But you insisted you were fine and went on your own. 

Now, though, you can’t hide your smile and the trembling excitement in your heart. You spent the entire train ride home with a silly smile on your face. 

Osamu was in the kitchen- as usual- stirring some pasta sauce on the stove. He glanced over at you when you entered, wiping his hands on his apron and walking out to greet you. 

You set all your bags down in the living room, hugging Osamu’s waist and tilting your head up for a kiss. Osamu happily obliges, tucking some of your hair behind your ear. 

His expression morphs into one of curiosity as he runs his hands up and down your arms, awaiting news of your diagnosis.

“It’s nothing _bad_ ,” you promise, pushing past him into the kitchen. The doctor had given you a prescription for your morning sickness- which helped immensely and immediately- to your great relief.

Osamu instantly relaxes when he realised you aren’t put off at the smell of his cooking. 

He runs his fingers through your hair, instructing you to have a seat at the table. Dinner is set in front of you in an instant and you tuck in heartily, missing the feeling of enjoying your husband’s cooking without having to throw it back up immediately after. 

Later, when you’re tucked in his side in bed, freshly showered and watching Netflix, Osamu asks you with a quirk of his brow. “So what is your diagnosis? You seem unusually happy.”

“Can’t I be happy that I get to enjoy your cooking again?” You ask, laughing. 

Osamu chuckles at that, hand coming to rub your belly. “Well, I’m glad for that.”

You don’t wait a moment before blurting it out. “I’m pregnant.” 

Osamu’s hand on your belly stills. He turns to you, wide-eyed. 

“You’re pregnant?” He whispers reverently. 

You card your fingers through his soft black hair. “Yes, ten weeks along.” 

Your husband breaks out into a megawatt smile, tackling you to the bed and kissing you all over your clothed abdomen. You giggle at his display of affection, but suddenly melt into tears when you watch Osamu lift up your t-shirt and stroke your tummy, kissing the skin and whispering a soft “Hi,” into your skin. 


	3. Chapter 3

“Y/N,” one of your colleagues call for you on your way back to your desk after a meeting, “There’s someone down at reception for you.” 

Your brow quirks in curiousity. Setting your things down at your desk, you grab your keycard, phone and wallet, heading to the reception. You had forgotten your lunch too, so you thought you’d stop by the convenience store after you met whoever it is. 

To your surprise, your husband is waiting by the receptionist’s desk, holding out your lunch bag. He’s sporting his signature bored expression, though he graces you with a smile when he notices you coming out from the lifts. 

“Osamu,” you walk over to him, “What are you doing here?” 

“Lunch,” he presses the bag in your arms. “Let’s go to the park nearby.” 

Excited that you get to spend your lunch break with him, you link your arms together with his, walking with him to the city park about 10 minutes away from your office tower. 

Only when you sit down do you notice that Osamu’s got his own lunch- a couple of onigiris from his shop. 

“You went down to the shop today?” You ask around a bite of rice. 

“Mmm,” Osamu nods, chewing his tuna mayo onigiri, “Noticed ya left yer lunch behind, so thought I would bring it t’ya.” 

“Thanks, ‘Samu,” you peck his cheek. Offering him a piece of stir-fry pork from your bento (leftovers from last night’s dinner), you lean your head on his shoulder. 

The spring sunshine and greenery is a welcome break from the computer screens and harsh white lighting of your office. And it doesn’t hurt in the slightest that you’re here with your husband, simply recharging by being with him. 

“Y/N,” he says, lifting up one of the onigiris, “Here.” 

“But ‘Samu,” you whine, “I already finished my lunch. And besides, this is yours.” 

“I want you to have it. It’s Lobster Mayo, yer favourite.” 

Not taking no for an answer, Osamu hold the onigiri up to your mouth. You nibble on it, ignoring his pressing stare as he expects you to finish it. Relenting, you pluck the onigiri from his fingers and finish it. As expected, it’s excellent. 

“Good,” Osamu smiles, satisfied, “I want ya t’be energised for work. Yer’ve been havin’ a busy few days lately.” 

“What would I do without you ‘Samu?” You throw your arms around his neck. 

“Starve, I suppose,” he quips, stroking a hand down your back. “But since I’m here, I’ll never let that happen, baby.” 

He pats your stomach lightly, “Wanna make sure yer eatin’ good.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> osamu is the sweetest bb...


	4. Chapter 4

On a normal morning, you drop your toddler at kindergarten and head off to work yourself. But today is not a normal morning. The kindergarten is having a cultural festival today- a fun day for parents to come over and appreciate the kids’ art and performances. 

You had dropped your toddler off today, returning home so you could head down to the kindergarten with Osamu at noon. 

“Excited?” You tease, reaching for Osamu’s hand as the two of you walk into the kindergarten. 

“Of course,” Osamu brushes off your teasing with his serious tone. Your daughter is your pride and joy but she’s Osamu’s little princess. It’s a given after all- he’s the person she spends most of her day with. Osamu fetches her from school at 3PM, brings her home and fixes her snacks, preps dinner with her, goes grocery shopping with her. They’re attached at the hip. 

Leaning your head against his arm, the two of you navigate the colourful halls to find her classroom. 

You see her burst with excitement when the two of you walk through the door, running with her arms held out. Osamu doesn’t even hesitate as he scoops her up, placing a sloppy kiss on her cheek. 

“Hi, princess,” Osamu greets softly, “I’ve missed ya.” 

“Daddy,” she giggles, trying to push his arms down, “you have to let me go so I can show you my drawings!” 

The two of you follow you to her corner where all her artwork is displayed.

“See,” she instructs, pointing her chubby finger to a drawing of your family. She’s drawn the three of you as well as a weird smudge attached to you. 

“What’s that,” Osamu asks, crouching down next to her, pointing to the smudge.

“I heard mommy say we’re having another baby.” She beams, proud at her work.

Osamu looks stunned for a moment before he presses a kiss to her cheek. “Yer so smart, princess. Yer going to be the best big sister.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, tumblr plug @1tooru


	5. Chapter 5

“Osamu,” you call his name, scrolling through instagram on the sofa. Osamu is sitting with you, watching the Great British Bakeoff on television, resting his head in your lap. 

He looks up at you in curiosity so you show him your phone screen. An image of a white cat at your local shelter looks down at him. 

“Look at him,” you pout, “We need him. He needs us.” 

Sitting up, Osamu looks at you with a brow quirked. “Ya want to adopt a cat?” 

“Yes,” you nod, scrolling to a video of the cat playing with one of his toys. “Please.” 

Osamu smiles obligingly, “Of course. Shall we head down to the shelter tomorrow?” 

“You’re the best,” you beam, throwing yourself into his lap. 

The next day, you arrive at the shelter, armed with all the essentials you would need to raise your cat. Osamu takes your hand, walking through the glass doors of the shelter, ready to meet your new friend. 

The adoption process is relatively easy, the both of you file the papers and pick the cat up. A docile and gentle cat, he happily lets Osamu scoop him up, nuzzling into Osamu’s broad chest, purring contentedly. 

You snap a couple of pictures your husband, feeling your heart burst when Osamu nuzzles the cat’s nose with his own. 

“What should we name him?” You ask later at home, having set the cat down to wander around the house. 

“Riceball,” Osamu answers without missing a beat, a fond smile as he thinks of one of the other loves in his life. 

“That’s too cute,” you inform him, bending down to scoop up your precious baby, Riceball. 

Scritching him behind his ears and giggling when he cuddles into you, you miss the sight of Osamu snapping a couple of photos of you. 

“So cute,” he murmurs, watching the love of his life and his new baby through the lens of his camera. He sets one of the photos as his wallpaper, giving himself a small serotonin boost whenever he misses you while you’re at work.


	6. Chapter 6

The rain pours in sheets outside, effectively trapping the city indoors for the day. You’re watching Netflix on the television, idly running your fingers through Osamu’s hair as he cuddles further into your side. 

Osamu is pressed against you, back slouched as he rests his head on your shoulder. He scrolls through something on his phone, occasionally letting out a small chuckle when he comes across something funny. 

He stops scrolling with a small gasp, tugging on your sleeve for attention. Osamu shows you a picture of a pair of tiny baby’s booties. 

“They’re so small,” he wonders in awe. 

Moments later, when your movie is over, he starts tracing circles on your wrists.

Quirking an eyebrow, you ask, “Osamu, what’s wrong?”

“Can we have a baby?” 

Your eyes widen in surprise but Osamu isn’t deterred. “Ya can just think about it. But I think we’re in a real good space right now.” 

Nodding, you watch him explain how he doesn’t have to go into work as often anymore now that he’s got a team managing his restaurants. And that work has calmed down a little for you. And that the house is a little quiet. 

“I’ll think about. But why don’t we book an appointment with the doctor so we can start trying?” You suggest.

“Y/N,” he beams, “I love ya.” 

“And I love you, Osamu,” you cup his cheek, “you’re going to be a great dad.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sighpies i never rmbr to update ao3! thank you for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

Osamu is a lowkey person- he much prefers staying at home to going out for dates, much prefers something simple over going to a fancy restaurant, and would live in his sweats if he could. The problem is, this leaves you with very few options when it comes time to create his birthday surprise because he also happens to be a domestic whiz and anything you try to make at home certainly won’t square up.

You’ve already ruled off cooking or baking anything for him- what you could manage to pull off in the culinary department would not be enough for a birthday celebration. Nothing homemade because he isn’t the sentimental type. 

Your last ditch effort is to throw him a surprise birthday party. Invite his family and friends and let him have fun. 

To your surprise, Atsumu turns out to be your biggest saviour in this entire extravaganza. He’s mobilised Aran to keep Osamu busy on the day and the rest of his high school and current professional team to prepare everything for the party. You also extend invitations to some of Osamu’s employees- the ones he’s close with- and his parents. 

Osamu- who received nothing more than a hug and kiss from you in the morning before Aran fetched him under the guise of ‘clothes shopping’- is eager to get home and just fall asleep in your arms, eating KFC and watching TV. 

Aran insists on dropping by because he wants to show you something- though exactly what, is unbeknownst to Osamu. 

When he unlocks the door, he’s greeted with the sound of party poppers and Atsumu’s annoying voice and the sight of all his loved ones at his surprise party. 

“Welcome home,” you beam, retrieving his shopping bags from him and kissing his cheek, “Happy birthday, darling.”

His surprise ebbs for sheer delight and affection as he scoops you up for a kiss. “Best surprise I could’ve asked for.”

“Oi!” Atsumu chucks a paper plate at him, “Stop kissin’ yer wife and come celebrate!” 

“Yer just jealous that I have a wife, shitty ‘Tsumu,” Osamu snaps, earning him a glare from both you and his mother. 

“What?” You ask him later, when he stares at you while the party goes on around you. “You didn’t think I forgot, did you?”

“Never, babe. I just really love ya,” he smiles softly, pulling you into his side. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i swear this was on time for his birthday! on tumblr at least ...


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok now im all caught up w my tumblr posts!

Osamu has the patience of a saint for those he loves- his mother, his brother, and you. So when your sister’s birthday is on the horizon and you ask him to teach you how to bake a cake for her, it is with a sinking heart and a soft smile that he agrees, digging himself into his own grave.

Baking is a precise, controlled art, one that took him many months to master in culinary school. You are a messy, undisciplined cook- that translates into you being the worst baker _ever_. 

A simple chocolate cake was the way to go- easy but decadent, the chocolate flavour would also give some of your technical incompetencies room to hide. 

“What happens if the egg shells go in?” You ask, peering into the batter.

“Ya gotta fish them out,” Osamu supplies distractedly, measuring the dry ingredients.

“Samu, I dropped in a few eggshells,” you mutter without an ounce of shame. 

To prevent you from making a further mess, Osamu steps in, quickly getting rid of the shells and finishing up your job of mixing the wet ingredients. 

Like a child, he instructs you to add in the sifted flour and cocoa powder, while he stirs, afraid you would overwork the batter. You look a little put out that you’re not so involved in the baking, but Osamu would sooner disappoint you than he would allow a subpar cake to come out of his kitchen. 

The cake is in the oven without a fuss and the icing is on the counter, ready. Osamu and you clean up a little before you turn to him with a devious expression.

Burying your face into his sweater-clad chest, you smirk, “Samu, you smell delicious.”

“Babe,” he smiles indulgently, “We both smell like chocolate.” 

“Mmm,” you hum, poking his firm chest, “But I want a bite.”

Cheeks going pink, Osamu swats your hand away, “Not now. The cake’s bakin.”

Even more mischievously, you reach into the icing bowl, slathering a chocolate smear on his cheek. You burst into giggles and all the fire in Osamu telling him to retaliate dies out.

“C’mere,” he calls, pulling you in for a kiss. 

The chocolate frosting smears on your nose as he pulls away. Feeling bold, Osamu leans forward to lick it off. It’s your turn to flush, swatting his hand away. 

He gives you a wink as he goes over to the oven to poke the cake with a toothpick to check its doneness. 

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi on tumblr @1tooru !! ALSO hmu there if u have any ideas on what i should write next for osamu


End file.
